


Curiosity was Overrated

by WaywardOneshots (orphan_account)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: But it's going to get so much darker before you know it, Gen, Some attempts at humor, Transformation, cat!dean
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-11
Updated: 2014-09-01
Packaged: 2018-02-12 18:13:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2119806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/WaywardOneshots
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam noticed the familiar shade of green in the cat's devilish eyes. He opened his mouth in astonishment but struggled to find the correct words. Castiel raises the cat up further for Sam to get a good look at, his own eyes searching for forgiveness. "He made an inappropriate joke." - Dean is cornered by a humorless Egyptian Goddess who is fond of unusual curses.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Of Inappropriate Jokes

                 

 

           Sam had already been awake for hours researching what appeared to be a vicious local haunting. After three strong cups of coffee, each eye-witness account he read began to make less sense than the one before it. He was getting nowhere. Every witness was either dead or comatose. Every hand-written account from the years previously had been made out in the worst chicken scratch imaginable. When the motel’s free wi-fi dropped down to a single bar, it was clearly a sign from the universe to throw in the towel. A sign that Sam was content to act on.

            He was doing just that when he felt a change in the room. The air had shifted rather violently for a fraction of a second and, after years of experience; he knew a bad omen when he saw one. Sam shifted his hand from the keyboard to the pistol lying just beside it. He paused, taking a sharp breath in preparation to fire, when he heard a strange noise. He turned in his seat to locate the source of the disturbance and found something he had not at all expected.

            There stood Castiel, Angel of the Lord and, by the looks of things, amateur cat-wrangler. Sam stood what was probably too quickly, abandoning the gun on the table, to look over the situation in mild shock. The angel’s arms were outstretched in front of him awkwardly; his bloodied hands barely supporting an angry-looking black tomcat. A tom that looked a little too familiar for him to be comfortable with. And it wasn’t long before Sam noticed the familiar shade of green in the cat’s devilish eyes. He opened his mouth in astonishment but he struggled for the correct words. Castiel raises the cat up further for Sam to get a good look at, his own eyes searching for forgiveness.

            Dean and Cas had left for Tampa nearly a week ago after hearing that the staff of a hotel had been afflicted with some truly original plagues. Castiel had suspected that one of the old Egyptian gods was responsible and they had prepared accordingly. Or so it had seemed at the time. In any case, Sam hadn’t expected for them to return like this.

            “He made an inappropriate joke.”

            It…Dean, flicked his tail wildly in irritation. The angel continued his explanation in a rough voice as he looked the cat over. “And Bastet never did possess a sense of humor.”


	2. A Matter of Pride

     No one was surprised when the cat wriggled his way out of Castiel’s grip. The black blur screamed across the dull blue carpet and towards the beds. He vanished from sight within seconds, like something from a supposed Sasquatch film, and Sam was unsure of what exactly he had seen of the cat. Fluffy? Large? Small? Long-tailed or short? The event was nearly impossible to describe.

     If Sam knew one thing about his brother, it was that Dean Winchester valued his pride. No matter what the situation, he would try to keep his dignity intact for as long as possible. When he broke his leg for the first time at nineteen, he told Sam that he would just walk it off. He had cried half the way to the hospital but even then he hadn’t asked for any favors while on crutches. As impossible as it all seemed, Sam easily imagined that Dean would shake this off in a matter of hours and act as though nothing had happened in the first place.

     Sam tore his thoughts away from the bed after a moment. He turned to the angel for some kind of guidance. “You said that Bastet was the one responsible for this? Maybe Dean could find some way to apologize to her?”

     Castiel lowered his gaze, “I found it my duty to smite her.” he said haltingly. “There were worse transgressions than these weighed against her. It seemed best to dismiss her before the situation became more serious.”

     Angels had a strong sense of justice above all else, even common sense. Sam ran a hand through his hair distractedly. They had come back from worse than this, right? He took another long look at the bed before making a decision.

     “There has to be another way we can reverse…whatever happened…to Dean? I mean, you must know of a spell or something that can undo this?”

     The angel narrowed his eyes. “No.”

     “Cas, there has to be something.” He began, trying to get his head screwed back on straight. Dean was family.

     “The Egyptian gods always had a limited power. It had to do with keeping them in check.” He paused and Sam could tell that his mind was very far away. When the angel came back up for air he had one suggestion that wasn’t very comforting to hear. “I remember the plagues lasting for only several days at a time.”

     It wasn’t much, but it was a start. “And if he still isn’t back to normal by then?”

     Castiel shifted on his feet, his eyes were downcast and it was easy to see that he didn’t have any more to say. Not anything helpful, at least. Research clearly needed to be done on the subject. And, in the meantime, he couldn’t help but wonder if there were any pet-friendly motels around town. There had to be at least one.

     “What do you suggest be done now?” Cas watched as a dark shape scooted along underneath the edges of the bed. It appeared that Dean had become restless, even in hiding.

     Sam saw the angel’s expression and resisted the impulse to turn around. “Well, he’ll need food sooner or later. I don’t know what to give him. To give… Dean?”

     A protest came from underneath the bed, which served only to reinforce the awkwardness of the situation. Sam cleared his throat; he really needed a moment to breathe.

     “Look, could you watch him?” He asked, heading towards the door with his phone. “I need to see what Bobby has to say about this. Maybe he’s heard about this type of thing?”

     Sam gladly retreated from the room and, as the door closed behind him, Castiel stepped over to the bed. The angel crouched down to try and get a better view of the cat, his tan coat folding up on itself the lower he went. He tilted his head to the side and was barely able to see a pair of intelligent green eyes staring up at him from beneath the bed. Cas gave him a small sigh.

     “I can’t help but feel partially responsible for this.” He mumbled, but the cat seemed to understand. “You shouldn’t have gone into the building alone.”

     Castiel turned his head to one side as he thought it over. All things considered, he had played a part in Dean’s transformation as well. If only they hadn’t become separated. If Bastet had been less skilled at making sigils... If he hadn’t acted so impulsively Dean, the real Dean, would be here right now.

     “Or Bastet should have been allowed time to return you to normal before she was impaled.” There was that.

     The cat, Dean, watched the door pointedly. Castiel followed his line of sight and took a quick breath. “Your brother doesn’t know what to do with you.”

     The angel reached down to him with a nearly inaudible sigh. He didn’t want to think that the transformation could be permanent. And as unlikely as that was, it made Castiel feel even worse. Dean was already annoyed. If this continued on for much longer, Castiel wasn’t sure how much of Dean would be left by the end of it. Souls, like liquids, tended to take on the characteristics of their containers.

     “Though I must admit, you are more agreeable company like this in some ways.”

     Dean batted at Castiel’s outstretched hand with his newfound claws. There was a moment of stunned silence as the angel winced and retracted his hand slowly. He wasn’t bleeding; he was more shocked than anything else. “I apologize. That must have sounded…inconsiderate.”

     He stood, his trench coat straightening itself out as it rose. Castiel felt something brush against the fabric and looked down to find what should have been a familiar face. Dean had finally come out from under the bed, it seemed, to apologize. The cat made a small noise just as the motel door opened.

 


	3. The Lion's Share

        Bobby hadn’t found much on Bastet. According to him, there were very few transformation stories that mentioned the goddess, especially in modern times. She had all but dropped off the face of the Earth around the fourth century when the Romans destroyed her cult. For some reason or another, Bastet had really taken an interest in the Sunshine State. Bobby had found records of missing persons, freak hailstorms and unusually isolated disease outbreaks that went back decades.

        When one too many bell boys had been hit with a particularly nasty and ancient form of the Clap, she popped up on their radar almost instantly. Sam could take a wild guess as to what Dean had said to get him in so much trouble with the goddess. He huffed and rolled his eyes. His brother never could keep his mouth shut. Bobby gave his last bit of advice regarding the situation as Sam pulled the door shut behind him.

        “I don’t know what to tell ya, kid, other than that the Egyptians seem to have a thing for taking their crap out on first-born sons.” There was a pause, Sam presumed, as Bobby took another drink. “It looks like the only thing you idjits can do is wait ‘til this hell-storm blows itself out. Keep me updated; never know when I might come across something useful.”

        Sam then nodded his affirmative, though it was a somewhat pointless gesture over the phone. “Will do. And thanks again, Bobby. We really owe you one.”

        “Yeah. You boys can pay me back when you’ve both got opposable thumbs.” He finished.

        Sam found that not much had changed while he was gone. Castiel was still on board with solving their current problem, much to his surprise. But what had really taken Sam’s breath away was the gorgeous black cat sitting alongside the angel. It would probably never be said out loud but in this form Dean was almost…cute. He was small, for a cat, and appeared to be built for speed. His fur was short and almost impossibly dark, Sam noticed. When he heard a hellish rumble, he knew he must have been staring for too long.

        “Sorry?” He muttered more to himself than the cat; Dean flicked his lengthy tail in annoyance. “Bobby says we should wait it out and see what happens. I guess that means, what, I leave Dean behind with you while I work on the case?”

        “That would be best.” The angel said somewhat darkly. “You don’t speak cat and he does not like you very much at the moment.”

        That was something Sam could believe. The last time he had spoken to his brother, they hadn’t exactly been on the best of terms. They had been in the middle of an argument when Dean stepped out of the room for a little air. Nearly three hours later he had returned and, while he wasn’t shouting, Sam could tell that he wasn’t quite himself. The guy smelled like a bar. He jumped at the first job that came to them across the wire. Dean had been enthusiastic about being anywhere but the motel room and Sam had been more than ready to give him some space.

        Sam pinched his eyes closed. If they had any chance of piecing Dean, the real Dean, back together he needed some sleep. The case he was on had been full of complications and disappointments alike. An hour, two; it didn’t matter to Sam as long as he got a little shuteye. Castiel was oddly observant of that fact for once. Dean watched intently from the floor as Sam stifled a yawn.

        “You’re tired?” Castiel said, though it sounded like more of a question than anything.

        “I just need, like, a couple of hours tops. You could pick up where I left off, if you need something to do. I’ve kind of hit a wall.” He gestured to the laptop when he had to yawn again.

        There was an odd silence that followed as the angel glanced over to the abandoned computer. Castiel remembered the last time he had tried to help with research that things had not gone as well as they could have. It took Sam a moment longer to catch up. He shook his head tiredly when he remembered that Castiel wasn’t exactly compatible with technology…of any kind really. The angel could speak any language under the sun but his generation wasn’t known for being point and click competent.

        Sam offered up some hard copies of witness accounts for the angel to look over. It didn’t take him long to disappear from the picture almost entirely. He wasted no time in choosing one of the beds and was settling in as Cas began to look through the papers. The angel turned his back on Sam. The files before him demanded his utmost attention. He narrowed his eyes at them for a second before catching movement out of the corner of his eye.

        Dean bounded along the carpet ahead of the angel, directing him towards the kitchenette area. He jumped up into one of the raggedy motel chairs with ease and flicked his head back towards Cas as a signal for him to follow. Castiel picked up on his que and, before too long, found a seat across from the cat.

        The angel stared down to the papers for a while without saying anything. The accounts were similar but garbled. They were almost illegible, which Castiel suspected was due to either adrenaline or poor grammar. It wasn’t but a few minutes before Dean got restless once more. Cas watched as the cat moved from chair to table without hesitation, coming to rest on top of Sam’s computer. His eyes narrowed when they found one of the abandoned papers and he twitched his tail in annoyance.

        While he had been left with his intelligence, black text on white wasn’t easy to focus on; especially when said text was mangled and pushed together. But what made the situation inherently difficult was the room. It was filled with all kinds of small movements, smells and sounds that he wasn’t entirely familiar with. There was no way he could settle down enough to read. Dean huffed at the angel.

        “I’ll read this?”

        The impatient cat let out a wide yawn and stretched out his paw towards the paper; a sign that Cas took as encouragement.

        He cleared his throat and began to read. “The witness says that there was a loud noise and they ran inside the Morris’ home to help. They found the family’s five year old daughter unconscious. Sam’s notes say that she’s been in a coma for three weeks.”

        Dean shimmied left and right, effectively sliding off the laptop and onto the discarded papers. He rolled over one way and then the other, pushing most of the documents to the edge of the table. They fluttered but before they could fall Castiel reached out for them. He narrowed his eyes at Dean who merely mer-owed and stretched out even further. He didn’t like research.

        “I don’t know. I’ll check.” Cas mumbled, more to himself than the cat.

        To be honest, the ‘conversation’ he was having felt somewhat one-sided and had been for some time. Longer than Castiel would admit. Dean had lost interest in the case some time ago but that didn’t keep Castiel from attempting to distract him. He pulled some of the papers out from underneath Dean with a little bit of work. They had been crumpled but, for the most part, they were still in one piece.

        “The names of the victims…”

        The cat side of Dean’s personality had definitely become bored with the angel. Castiel only wanted to read and Dean grew tired of being ignored. He sat up halfway and curled his paw on top of the closest pile of papers and scooted them away yet again. This time, Castiel allowed the papers to fall and the two watched them flutter down to meet the carpet. Dean was testing his limits, it seemed. His tail swiveled mischievously as the papers finally stopped moving and Cas found himself smiling down to the fidgety little cat.

        Dean made an odd, triumphant noise before picking himself up off the tabletop to follow them. He landed onto the floor without incident. Though the fall had startled him a little, he paused to survey the room at his new height. Things were pretty much the same, maybe a little grungier. He could get used to this. There was only one thing that he was missing and he looked to Castiel to supply it for him. Dean tilted his head to one side in a pleading way; eying an open beer that had been left out by Sam.

        “Cats shouldn’t be given whiskey.” The angel cautioned him as the sun rose. His thoughts drifted back to Sam when he saw the annoyed expression in Dean’s eyes. “Your brother is already having a difficult time keeping a straight face.”

        He saw Dean flick his tail in irritation. The sooner this curse ended the better.

        “The name Morris appears several times. It appears that this family is under attack.” Cas said haltingly. “Perhaps we should speak with them.”

        When Cas looked down to Dean he saw that the cat had begun a little exploration of the room. He was wandering, lost in contempt. Light was streaming in though the uncovered window. Dean found himself drawn towards a warm, sunny spot on the carpet; like some poor sucker to a five dollar hooker. And without any extra thought he sits down. His tail curls around him, almost on instinct. And sure, it’s the floor, but it’s more comfortable than he had imagined. Which lead to him lying down. Which lead to him restfully closing his eyes.

        Dean drifted off as Cas continued to read.


	4. Hour in the Sun

            Saying it had been a long night would have been an understatement. Sam wasn’t sure when he had fallen asleep. He didn’t know what to expect upon waking either. Would his brother be good as new? Or would he face another day of staring down to the green-eyed terror? There was only one action to take. Sam rubbed the sleep from his eyes and groggily sat up, throwing his feet over the edge of the bed.

            The first thing he noticed was that it was actually morning; late morning, by the sound of the traffic outside. Castiel was sitting right by the window, dutifully looking over Sam’s notes. Sam sighed tiredly. He hadn’t imagined that the angel would have stayed with his task for so long. Castiel turned to him, taking notice of his semi-conscious state.

            “I found several places where these articles contradict themselves.” He reported. Sam could tell that his voice was surprisingly raw. “I fully understand your frustration with them. Meredith in particular has the worst penmanship I’ve come across since Joshua.”

Sam narrowed his eyes. “The prophet?”

            “Yes.” The angel nodded curtly.

            The story was a little difficult to believe but, everything considered, it must’ve been true. Castiel watched as Sam’s gaze drifted across the room distractedly. He gestured down towards a sunny spot on the carpet just a short distance away. It wasn’t long before Sam caught sight of his brother, who was sound asleep and curled up in the middle of the floor. Sam smiled and shook his head in disbelief.

            “That answers one question.” He muttered as he rose from the bed. “Hey, what time is it?”

            Cas set the papers down and gazed out into the parking lot; he was intently studying the way the shadows had carved themselves into the asphalt.

            “Eleven seventeen.” He said as he turned back to Sam. “But that is merely an estimation. If you wanted the true time I would need seven more minutes. Which makes the process-”

            “That’s fine, Cas. Thanks.” Sam replied. His voice was a bit sharper than he had intended. He stood and began making his way toward the coffee maker, being careful to step over the sleeping cat. “Have you found anything?”

            “I believe we should visit the Morris’ daughter.” He seemed uncertain of himself. “It might be possible for me to wake her. She could have seen whatever it was that attacked her.”

            “That would be…a miracle. I’m sure her family would be really grateful.”

            Sam started the machine and turned around to lean against the counter. He turned his attention back down to Dean. He watched as one ear flicked attentively towards his voice. Dean liked waking up to the promising sound of a fresh brew in the works. So it was no surprise that the whirring of the machine had acted like an alarm clock for the cat. He stretched and made a very small noise, one that Sam thought was an inquiry, before opening his eyes.

            “What was that?” Sam looked to Castiel for a translation.

            The angel stood without hesitation. “He’s hungry.”

            Sam turned towards the small beverage fridge near the microwave. He might have some left-over Chinese from the day before, but that was about it. Short of getting Dean some water he didn’t know what would be safe for Dean to eat. As kids, they had never kept pets. Not for very long at least. This meant that, once again, the Winchesters were effectively out of their depths.

            “Hold on.” Cas disappeared as soon as the words were out of his mouth; he reappeared within seconds and Sam let out a sigh of relief.

            Before Dean could open his mouth to complain again, a dish of warm milk was being lowered towards the carpet. Where the angel had gotten it from, or when, wasn’t an issue for the cat. Dean was happy to get anything. And he had to admit, as undignified and ineffective as lapping milk from a bowl was, he had been through a rough day. Cas stepped back over to his place near the window as Dean drank quietly.

            “You’re pretty good at that.”

            Cas shrugged; an odd gesture to see coming from an angel. “I saw it in a children’s show.”

            Sam poured himself a mug of coffee and moved over to glance at the research that’d been left out. Some of the papers had been crumpled, a few were folded over and some dog-eared. But Cas had made several names stand out with harsh, uneven circles of dark blue ink. He glanced up to Cas as he took another swig.

            “These names that you circled? They’re all victims?” Sam looked harshly at his mug. It was sweeter than he usually took it, but he wasn’t ready to hike back to the other side of the room to pour it out. Oh well.

            “Yes.”

            He pushed a few of the papers to the side to make room to set down his mug and sat down. Sam narrowed his eyes and exhaled. He was still overwhelmed by the paperwork in front of him. Whatever connections Castiel had discovered between the victims, Sam struggled to make heads or tails of them. It seemed that the angel didn’t have the best handwriting either.

            “Would you mind getting me up to speed here?”

            “No.” Cas paused. He continued only after catching sight of Sam’s expectant expression. “Right. They’re all related, either by blood or by name. Some of these people married into different families but they were born under the name ‘Morris’. The other half of the victims were children who were also from the Morris bloodline.”

            “I thought it might have been a haunting. Like a vengeful spirit with a feud against the family.” Sam knew something still didn’t seem right about this, but it was difficult to put a finger on.

            “That would appear to be the case, yes.”

            Sam stood, making the clear decision to abandon his coffee. If they were going to get anywhere with this case, the best thing they could do would be to head over to the hospital. They needed to interview the family. It was possible that someone might be able to put a name to an old grudge and then, if they could get a description of the ghost, their work would be nearly halfway done.

            So many of the victims were in the hospital, it seemed only fitting that he find a cover that would allow him to get close. He had gone into the case as an agent from the Center for Disease Control. As Doctor Kendrick, Sam had already visited several of the patients at Centerpoint Medical Center. The EMF had given him next to nothing. Reciting exorcisms had been unsuccessful. Whatever had been lurking around the small Missouri town wasn’t playing nice. And so far, there hadn’t been anything solid for him to work with. But now he was sure they would resolve the situation soon. He looked down to Dean, who had just finished with his own breakfast, before continuing on his way to the bathroom. A quick shower and a freshly ironed suit was all that he needed.

            Dean watched as his brother cautiously walked around him. The cat shrank back to one side as he allowed the giant to pass. He rumbled softly as Sam disappeared into the bathroom. There was no way he would ever get used to being at such a height disadvantage.

            “You should return to normal in a few days.” Castiel said; Dean could see that he was still standing by the door. His refusal to meet Dean’s gaze made the promise seem a little too good to be true. “I sense that the magic surrounding you is gradually fading.”

            When the angel finally looked down to the cat, Dean was sitting right by his side. He narrowed his eyes and glanced out into the parking lot once more. Perhaps Dean would appreciate a more interesting view. Surely he had grown tired of the grungy motel carpet?

            In seconds, Cas had kneeled down and folded his hands underneath the small cat. Castiel hesitated when he began to lose his grip halfway up to the windowsill. He saw Dean’s eyes go wide as he readjusted his hold. Dean froze; this could go wrong fast. He was really hoping that what he had heard about cats landing on their feet wasn’t just hocus. His muscles tensed up in preparation for a less than eloquent landing.

            They both let out a sigh of relief, Dean’s came across as more of a hiss, as Cas set him down safely on the thin windowsill. There was just enough room for Dean to stand length wise against the glass and peer out. The view didn’t exactly remind him of Monte Carlo but the passing cars and people gave him something to watch; something to keep his attention.

            It wasn’t long before his view was blocked by something rather unexpected. Dean watched in fascination as a small yellow butterfly darted right past the window. He flattened himself down, almost like he was stalking prey, when he saw the movement. His green eyes narrowed maliciously. The flutter of the insect’s wings had triggered something primal in him. Then he stopped all at once; Dean straightened himself back up and shook his head. What was wrong with him? Despite appearances, he was not an animal.

            As soon as the bug had gone, the cat leapt into action. Dean turned from the window in a frenzy of motion and jumped down to the floor. He had enjoyed the view, sure. But he felt like pieces of him were beginning to slip away. This cat thing was going to be a nightmare in more ways than one, it seemed. Dean gave a half-way shrug, twisting as he walked. He figured he might still survive it if Cas would stop picking him up.

            The cat turned attentively to the back of the room as he heard a door open. Sam was just straightening his collar when he emerged from the bathroom. He saw a glance between the angel and cat and almost immediately felt that something was up. It was strangely quiet in the room but Sam didn’t feel like pressing for answers.

            “We’ll have to speak with the surviving members of the family; see if they’ll tell us about their enemies. That’s after we get done at the hospital.” Sam watched the cat as his tail swept from side to side. Dean could see that his brother was up to something. “I’m all ready to go. But I don’t know what we should do with Dean. Should we leave him here? I mean, hospitals aren’t exactly known for being warm and fuzzy.”

            Dean harrumphed and marched over to the door stubbornly. There was no way he was staying there. As much as he didn’t care about the case, they weren’t going to rid of him that easily. Dean huffed and turned his back to the door to glare up at Sam from across the room.

            “He should come with us. It is my duty to watch over him.” Cas said pointedly as Sam double checked that he had the correct badge on his person. “And your brother is stubborn. I don’t believe Dean will allow us to leave without him, even in this form.”

            Damn straight he wouldn’t. Dean rose, making room for Sam to open the door. He followed his brother into the parking lot, trailing behind him like some kind of bloodhound. Sam led them to a beat-up silver Buick and turned sharply as he neared the trunk. He reached out to pop the back door open for his brother. Dean never had liked the back seat. Hell, he hadn’t known anyone who did. The cat hesitated only for a moment on the warm asphalt before leaping into the car with a grumble. The back seat wasn’t as bad as he had imagined it to be. It was, in fact, worse. He was on edge the second his paws hit the felt interior but he wasn’t sure why.

            He heard the door shut behind him and watched as Cas and his brother got settled in up front. Sam was pulling his seatbelt on as a thought crossed his mind. “You guys drove down to Florida, didn’t you?” He glanced over to Cas and motioned for him to buckle up too. “What happened to the Impala?”

            “Dean’s car?” The angel paused; he struggled with the odd contraption. “I left it with a devout man in Tampa; a pastor of twenty years. I trust him-”

            Sam looked up to the rearview mirror for signs of traffic as the angel continued his monologue. He caught sight of Dean, who had begun to pace in the back seat, but Dean didn’t acknowledge him. The cat was preoccupied with discovering why he didn’t like the back seat. Or why this one in particular was making him feel so uncomfortable. He could smell stale fries and years of spilt colas, sure. But stuff like that was expected.

            Then he froze. Hell no. Above all else, Dean absolutely hated the smell of wet dog. And that was all it took. There was no way he was staying in the back seat any longer. He made his move, leaping from the back seat to the front of the car. It wasn’t a particularly impressive feat, but it was a surprising action nonetheless.

            “People tell me that he has a way with words. Which probably has something to do with his history as a smuggler-” Castiel stopped talking midsentence and looked down to the small, black cat that had just appeared.

            Though Dean seemed just as surprised to find himself in the angel’s lap, he was too stubborn to let it show. He liked to think that he had a good poker face. Dean sat there for a moment, the end of his tail sweeping back and forth mischievously. Sam could see that as awkward as the situation seemed to be, from where he was sitting at least, Dean was unwilling to budge. The cat decided to lie down after another quiet minute. He tilted his head to the side to look up to Cas. All things considered, the angel seemed to accept his company, and after a moment things in the car returned to semi-normal.

            Sam started the car and the engine sputtered to life. The radio started up and Dean turned his full attention to the hunk of junk that his brother had been parading around in. What had, at first, only been a mess of static became clearer to the cat within seconds. Dean rumbled in irritation as he recognized the lyrics to “Hey There Delilah”. The Plain White T’s were far from his favorite band and he never had been able to listen to a love song with a straight face.

            Dean huffed again. Before he could throw a proper hissy fit, Sam went into action. He reached down to change the station for his brother but a word from Castiel made him hesitate.

            “Can you leave it here? This song was a favorite of the garrison when it first came out.” Cas muttered more to himself than anyone else. “All of Heaven was mumbling it for weeks afterwards. It was eventually given its own wavelength.”

            The song was allowed to continue playing, much to Dean’s annoyance, as Sam backed the car out of the space. The cat came close to rolling his eyes. Once they reached the road, Dean looked up to Cas and caught the angel smiling absentmindedly. It wasn’t that great of a song in his books but he supposed that it had its audience. His tail seemed to take on a mind of its own as it flicked back and forth just the slightest in time with the music.

            Dean shifted in Cas’ lap as they took a harsh turn and Cas instinctively reached out to keep him from falling down onto the floorboards. He glanced down to Dean. Was that okay? The cat side of him was comfortable with it and Dean had to agree for once. The cat allowed Castiel to act as his guardian angel for the trip.

            As odd as it would sound, it was one of the better car rides Dean had been on in his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter, my dear lovelies, may be the last for some time. Chapter 5 in in the works and, though updates will be less frequent, they will continue.


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